Imitation
by Lady Silverbird
Summary: They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. So what does that make the clones? Instead of listening to Helen, Cutter's clone makes a different choice that alters the course of the future.
1. Theta

**A/N:****We all know that Helen (cough, cough, hag!) had her army of evil clones, including one of everyone's favourite professor, Cutter. What if she made clones of the rest of the team? What happened to them? Questions like these wouldn't stop bugging me until I relinquished and wrote this fic. Read, enjoy, and please review.**

* * *

Chapter I: Theta

The clone of Nick Cutter was not a stone-dumb photocopy.

That was something that Mistress Cutter was wrong about. He was starting to understand that she was wrong about a lot of things. He was _not_ stupid, he _did_ have baser feelings, and he was _really_ starting to get annoyed by this whole 'it' business. He was not an '_it'!_ He was not the real Nick Cutter, but he was still male. Therefore, he was not an 'it', he was a 'he', correct? Correct. These thoughts were in his head as he pointed the gun point-blank at Nick Cutter's head, counting to ten. However, the professor looked surprisingly calm, considering there was a deadly weapon aimed at his skull. "You don't have to do what she says. You have a choice," said Nick in a low murmur.

A choice? Since when did he ever have a choice? Obedience was all that he knew. Mistress gave the orders, and he obeyed them. That was how it was supposed to be. But...maybe...Mistress Cutter was wrong about that too. Why _did_ he have to obey her? He had a mind of his own, fully capable of making a decision. He'd already made a decision, though Mistress didn't know it. He was proud of it, but also terribly guilty. He was aware that Mistress and Nick were speaking, arguing, and then Mistress was speaking to him once again: he focused.

"Listen to my voice. Complete your mission," she said firmly, and he moved away from her, headed towards the table, and opened the case with a very powerful explosive device inside. He took the detonator into his hand. Were he to trigger the mechanism, almost the entire ARC would be destroyed, he was certain of it.

Just as quickly, though, Nick came around to stand beside him. "Look, I know that you can hear me, I know that you can understand. You don't have to obey her."

"She made me," murmured the clone quietly.

"You're a human being, you have a _choice,"_ insisted Nick.

"Don't listen to him. Follow your instructions," barked Mistress.

Unheeding of the Mistress's words, Nick continued speaking in that same lowered voice, almost soothing. "You're not a machine. You're a free man. You don't want to die."

"I don't know what death is," admitted the clone. He didn't know what it meant to die, but he had a vague sense that it was bad because Mistress often threatened people with it. It had to be bad if it was used to threaten, didn't it?

"Trust me. Life's better," replied Nick.

"Don't listen to him!" repeated Mistress in a shout as she ran down a hallway, artefact in hand.

Abandoning him. Leaving him - them - to die, whatever that was. The clone knew for a fact now that Mistress did not care about him, had probably never cared about him or anyone except for herself. And she thought that _he_ had no baser feelings? He looked at the detonator in his hand. It could transmit the signal from up to 75 feet away. Mistress thought he never paid attention to things, but he liked to watch as she worked and built the explosive device, so he knew that they could be far away from the bomb when it went off. His gaze lifted to Nick; in all the time the professor could have run away, he stood there, awaiting a reaction, a response. "I will detonate this - " he said quietly; Nick closed his eyes. Feeling a slight smile curl his lips, the clone finished his sentence. " - once we are far enough away to avoid injury."

Nick's eyes flew open as he stared, mouth dropping open. Then the clone turned and ran down a hallway, fleeing away from the explosive device; he heard the pounding of footsteps on the floor and knew that the professor was following him. "You made the right choice," said Nick as they rounded a corner. _Have I?_ the clone wondered as he pressed down on the detonator.

The initial shockwave of the explosion made him stagger, closely followed by a press of hot air against his back that forewarned a wall of fire close behind. So he ran faster, already tasting smoke in the air. "Move!" he shouted, hearing the roar of flame, and he shoved the professor into the nearest empty office, slamming the door behind them just as the fire bellowed past, the heat bringing sweat to his forehead. They lay on the poor carpeting, staring at the door, smoke oozing from beneath it, and he remembered his decision, the first one he'd ever made for himself. He looked at the professor. "My name is Theta."

* * *

To come face-to-face with oneself was most certainly a disconcerting experience. When Connor had said it was him, Cutter was truly baffled. Then he felt that hair-raising feeling where he _knew_ someone stood behind him; he'd turned around and ended up inches away from a perfect copy of himself, a genetic replica of his DNA. It was definitely one of those 'you had to be there' moments to understand.

Helen had said the clone was only physically the same, that mentally, he was essentially dumb as a stump. That was where Cutter drew the line. Who was she to say that the clone had no intelligence? When the clone pointed a gun at his head and counted to ten, Cutter tried to talk to him, convince him that there was another path for taking, right there. Though Helen said the clone had no baser feelings, he could see the faintest glimmer of a response in the clone's eyes - his eyes.

Shortly after came the bomb. Cutter did not like anything that exploded, except for fireworks. Sometimes not even those. Again, he'd tried to convince the clone to make a different choice, to not follow orders. Helen took the artefact and ran, but his focus was currently on the explosive device on the table in front of him. At last, the clone looked at him directly. "I will detonate this," said the clone in Cutter's voice; with a sigh, he closed his eyes, hoping their death would be swift and painless. "Once we are far enough away to avoid injury," added the clone suddenly, and Cutter's head lifted, eyes snapping open wide. The clone was smiling slightly; then he turned and ran down a hallway. Cutter ran after him.

"You made the right choice," Cutter said as they ran, glancing over at the clone.

Without speaking, the clone lifted the small remote and pressed the button. The shockwave of the explosion made Cutter's stride falter, nearly falling over on his face. A wall of heated air ruffled the back of his hair, rushing past him, and heard the faint roar of flame. "Move!" shouted the clone, suddenly veering to the side, tackling him around the middle and knocking them both into an empty office, kicking the door shut. Cutter caught a glimpse of flames rushing past before the door shut. For a minute, all he could do was lie there, breathing hard, smelling smoke. He'd just been rescued by his clone. God, his bizarre life was getting more and more warped by the minute. The clone looked back at him. It was strange to look upon himself and see his face as others would, not backwards in a mirror. "My name is Theta," said the clone suddenly.

"What?" Cutter said brilliantly.

"Theta. My name is Theta."

"Like the Greek letter, Theta?" he asked.

The clone - Theta - nodded. "I chose my name, not Mistress. It is _my_ name," he said, his voice not quite smug but almost. He seemed to be exceedingly proud of the fact that he'd chosen his own name, not one that Helen had given to him.

"Well, in that case...thank you, Theta," he said, sitting up gingerly. His shoulder throbbed from hitting the ground hard. "What made you decide not to listen to her?"

Theta's expression didn't change. "I am not an 'it'," he said last.

Cutter couldn't even pretend to understand, but he nodded anyways. Then he looked at the closed door of the office. The stench of smoke was getting stronger, the heat in the building rising. "Let's get out of here, Theta."


	2. Return

Chapter II: Return

"You go," said Theta as they rose to their feet. "Mistress will not have gotten out of the ARC before the explosion. She will be inside, and she might be injured. I will find her. You go and find your Jenny Lewis."

Nick stared at the other man, trying to understand how Helen ever believed that clones could not think for themselves. "Thank you," he said again, not knowing what else there was to say.

There was an ominous creaking groan from overhead. "The structure will not hold, and the fire is spreading. Goodbye, Nick Cutter," Theta said, holding out one hand.

"Goodbye, Theta," he said, shaking the proffered hand.

Without another word, Theta turned and kicked down the office door, smashing it entirely off the hinges as if it were a piece of cardboard attached with tape. Just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the smoke. Nick stared after him for a minute, well and truly star-struck, but then the smoke got to his lungs, and he coughed hard, covering his mouth and nose with one sleeve. Picking his way across the wreckage, he headed for the nearest exit.

* * *

"Is everyone alright?" called Jenny Lewis as she looked around at the soot-stained escapees. A few were being loaded onto ambulances, but most were still on their feet. Turning in a circle, she scanned the crowds but she couldn't spot a familiar head of shaggy, dirty-blond hair. "Where's Nick?" she asked, looking around once more in case she'd accidentally looked over him. But she still couldn't spot him. "Nick? Nick? Oh, God, he must still be inside," she gasped as she turned her gaze back towards the flaming ARC.

"Professor!" said Connor loudly; he started to walk forward, venture back into the wreckage, but Becker gripped his arm tightly, yanking the young man back.

Jenny felt borderline panic begin to bubble up from within her, making her breathing come fast and shallow, heart pounding in her ears. She couldn't have lost him, not now. There was something important that she had to tell him, something that he had to know. Just as she was beginning to consider running into the burning building herself, she heard a voice thick with a proud Scottish brogue calling, "Jenny!" A tall figure made his way out of the smoke, coughing and fanning the air in front of him. All the panic rushed out of her body, leaving her almost dizzy at the familiar sight of him, soot-smudged and coated in dust but alive. She ran forward, all but leaping onto him in a ferocious hug. He wrapped both arms around her, and she felt the rumble in his chest that meant he was laughing. "Is it safe to assume you were worried about me?" he asked, breath tickling her ear.

Pulling back from the embrace, she swiped at her eyes to quickly brush away the tears gathered there, slapping his arm with the other hand. "Of course I was worried, you arse," she sniffled. "I happen to care about what happens to you."

She moved to hug him once again, but Lester stepped forward. "How do we know that you're the real Cutter and not another one of Helen's clones?" he asked.

"You're an arrogant prick," Nick shot back.

"It's the real Cutter. Stand down," Lester said to the soldiers who'd all aimed weapons at him, suspicious of the clones. "Where is Helen and does she have the artefact?" he asked.

Nick glanced over his shoulder at the ARC. "She's still inside somewhere, and I don't know if she has it or not," he replied.

Lester sniffed. "Fantastic. Captain Becker, have your men surround the facility. Nobody gets out without being cleared by you first, and you report everyone back to me and _only_ me, understood?"

"Yes, sir," replied Becker, striding off to follow orders.

"Nick, there's something that I need to tell you," she said.

"What's that?" he asked, his smile replaced by a serious expression.

She slid her arms around him, stood on her toes, and brought her lips to his, kissing him the way she'd wanted to for a long time now. She didn't care that Lester could see, didn't care that Abby, Connor, and Sarah were only a few feet away, didn't care that the ARC was still in flames behind them. She tightened her arms around his neck and kissed him firmly. Nick responded with passion, one hand on her back, the other buried in her hair. He tasted sweet and spicy at the same time, breaking apart only when oxygen became a necessity. "Well," he said at last. "That surely was something."

She smiled, heat rushing to her face as she turned around and found the others all staring at her. Sarah's jaw was hanging open, Lester looked exasperated and annoyed, Abby was actively inspecting the toes of her shoes, and Connor was grinning. "Don't you say a damn word or I'll shove you inside," warned Nick, jabbing a finger at the young man as he slid an arm around her waist, the two of them walking over to the medics; Connor held up both hands harmlessly. They made it about a metre away when she heard Connor say, "You owe me 20 quid, Abby. Told you she'd kiss him first," and Nick groaned aloud.

"You know that it's bad when they were actually betting on our love life," she said with a grin, tightening her arm around his waist possessively.

"Maybe. Think we should tell him about the bet pool on him and Abby?" he asked back in an undertone, and she giggled.

* * *

Theta strode through the smoke, squinting and covering his mouth with one sleeve. The heat didn't bother him, nor did the tell-tale creak and groan of a building on the verge of collapse. He had to find Mistress. He climbed over the ruins of the ADD and made it down the hallway that Mistress had run down. She could not have gotten very far; imagining the schematics of the building in his head, he picked the most likely route she would've taken towards the exit.

She was not hard to find, lying on the ground. In one hand, she clutched the protective case that held the artefact. There was a grubby mark on her cheek and a swollen knot on her forehead that was rapidly turning the plum colour of a bruise. As she began to shift and groan, he leaned down, taking the gun and the case from her hands. Sliding the strap over his shoulder, Theta pulled back the slide of the weapon and pointed it at her skull; strange to think that only a short time ago, he'd been doing the same thing to Nick Cutter. His finger was on the trigger, waiting patiently. Her eyes fluttered open. She looked dazed for a few seconds, hands curling as she realised what was missing. Suddenly, she became aware that he stood above her, and she turned over on his back. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Lower the gun, give me back the artefact," she ordered.

She really did have an annoying voice. How had Nick survived this for years? "No," he said. God, he loved that word, especially when saying it to her.

Her eyes went wide. "What did you say?" she whispered, truly caught off guard.

A smile came to his face. "I said, 'no'. I will not drop the gun, and I will not give you the artefact. No."

"Listen to my voice. Lower the gun, and give. Me. The. Artefact," she repeated, grinding the words out between her teeth.

"You can't tell me what to do anymore," said Theta, reveling in this - having the control, being the one who _gave_ orders instead of simply following them. "Nick was right. I am not a machine, I am a human being, and _you_ cannot order me about."

Mistress's - Helen's jaw clenched, muscle ticking in her jaw, and she nearly screeched, "You insignificant piece of meat, I _created_ you!"

"You might have created this body, but you did not make _me._ Even if you were to kill me and clone a thousand more like me, you will never create _me,_" he replied evenly. "So I will take this artefact, I will leave, and I will never listen to you again, Helen - " Theta hesitated slightly, changing his words. " - Ambrose. You don't even deserve his name," he said.

She hissed like a burned cat at the use of her maiden name. "Kill me then and be done with it, _clone,"_ Helen sneered, glaring at him.

He knew that he was she was trying to provoke him, but he didn't care anymore. His gaze moved to the gun in his hand, then he lowered it.

Helen laughed. "I knew that you were weak. At least the real Nick had balls," she said.

Theta chose not to correct her use of the past tense, let that be a surprise later on. "No. I'm not weak. I'm simply better than you. I refuse to sink down to your level, so I won't shoot you. But I will do this," he said, then drew back one boot and kicked her in the head; Helen's head snapped back hard enough to give her whiplash, eyes rolling back as she fell limp, sprawled unconscious. He briefly considered just leaving her there, letting her die in the flames. Still, some newfound part of him protested, straining against his vengeful thoughts. With a low sigh, he tucked the gun back into his belt, bent down, and grasped the collar of her shirt and jacket, and he walked out of the ARC, dragging her along behind him, not caring if her clothes tore on the debris or if she ended up bruised and sore. Emerging into the sunlight, he blinked at the sudden onslaught of bright light, taking in a deep breath of fresh air to cleanse his lungs of smoke. Looking down at his passenger, he sighed again, hauling her a reasonably safe distance away and leaving her slumped over in the space between two rubbish bins. If Captain Becker's men found her, so be it. He looked back at her. "And my name is Theta."

He heard the sound of boots on the pavement, growing closer and louder, accompanied by the voice of Becker shouting orders. Adjusting the strap of the case on his shoulder, Theta glanced back at the ARC once more before he took off. He didn't know where he would go or what he'd do, but that was truly the greatest thing. He could do whatever he wanted. No more orders, no more Helen. As Theta slowed his pace - he was a safe distance away from the ARC now - he noticed he was receiving more than a few odd looks. He still reeked of smoke and his clothes were torn in a few places. _First thing is first. I need some new clothes, and then I am leaving England,_ he thought, but then he reconsidered, a smile coming to his face. There was still one more thing that had to be done.

* * *

Nick heard the knock on the door and groaned without opening his eyes. Every time. _Every time,_ there always seemed to be a damn interruption. First it was the medics, then it was Lester phoning him, and now it was the damn door.

"Ignore it," Jenny urged, her fingers combing through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp.

God, it felt good when she did that, and he briefly considered doing just that, but for some ridiculous reason, he chose not to. "No, because they'll most likely knock again, and if it's Captain Becker, he might break the door down," he said, pushing himself up off her. Jenny whinged as he pulled on his shirt and headed out of the living room towards the front door. "Whatever you're selling, product or religion, I really am not int - " His words cut off as he opened the door.

There was nobody there. Cautiously, he leaned out the door, looking both ways. There was not a single living soul out on the street at this hour, except for the stray cat that liked to get in his trash bins. _Okay...that's not weird at all,_ he thought, about to close the door, but then his gaze dropped downwards. On the front step was a long black case, smudged and scratched. He bent down, picked up the case, and gave it a shake; something rattled inside. Curious now, he pried off the lid and shook the object out into his hand. It was the artefact, whole and secure. Nick's mouth fell open slightly, stunned. A small square of folded paper slid out of the case and fell into his palm. Taking the paper, he tucked the artefact under his arm and unfolded it. His eyes raked over the words once, and a laugh bubbled up out of his throat, shoulders shaking:

_Nick, _

_I thought you might like this back. Good luck, and try not to have anymore buildings explode. _

There was no signature, just one symbol, one Greek letter at the bottom of the page: Θ.


End file.
